Speakeasy Smash
by Agent Fonty-Seven
Summary: 1920's Gangster AU. David Shield, owner of a pub in prohibition-era San Francisco, is shaken down by crooked cops looking for protection money. Luckily, the bartender had recently made a very mighty friend in the form of a certain Mafioso. Oneshot/drabble


Dusk had settled over The Shieldmaiden Pub, yet all of the usual evening patrons were conspicuously absent. Even with the apparent vacancy of the establishment, quite a racket was being raised within. Even out into the quiet streets, the crack of splintering wood and the shouting of a man could be heard from inside.

"Listen, pal, I dunno how they do things over in Ireland, but over here you gotta pay your dues, understand?!" shouted a lean man wearing a police uniform, his hands clenched tightly around the collar of David Shield's shirt, pressing the bartender's back against the wall. "We cops bust our asses protecting you little guys from the gangs infesting these cities! It's the least you could do to offer us a li'l bit of compensation for all our hard work!"

Dave, though he was clearly at the mercy of one cop, whose more rotund partner seemed to be content to let such things transpire, remained as calm as he could under such an assault. He grasped at the slender cop's wrists, though he resisted striking back, deathly aware of the gun holstered at both men's hips.

"I already told you, your services aren't required here," he replied evenly, which only seemed to anger the cop further.

"Oh yeah, tough guy?! Who's gonna save ya when some mook comes in 'ere and starts shootin' up the place?!"

As if on cue, the other officer unholstered his sidearm, aiming it just past Dave and opening fire on the bottles lined up at the back of the bar. In the middle of all the racket, however, their attention was pulled away when the doors of the establishment crashed violently open.

"It's alright now, see?" came a voice booming like thunder from the hulking man standing in the doorway, the streetlight outside casting him as an inky black silhouette. Even through the darkness, the flash of bright blue eyes and a wide grin could not be mistaken. "'Cuz I am here!"

Dave couldn't help but smile as the familiar voice shook the very rafters. He wasn't the only one to recognize it, it seemed. The plump partner of the cop that had accosted him seemed to go pale in an instant, quickly holstering his gun. The skinny cop, however, was not so impressed, never letting go of the bartender's shirt as he looked back over his shoulder at the intruder.

"Yeah, and who the hell are you, pal?! Am I supposed to be impressed or somethin'?!"

Before the cop could say much more than that, his partner scrambled over to pull him away from Dave by the shoulder.

"Y-you idiot! Do you have any idea who that is?!" he warned in a shaking voice. "Th-that's the Shimura Family's Capo, Toshinori Yagi!"

The skinny cop eyed the muscle-bound Capo, looking him up and down with a sneer. He finally released Dave, but only to saunter over towards Toshi, a cocky grin plastered on his face.

"Oh yeah? So you think yer some kinda big tough gangster, eh? Well, hows about I show you how we take care of guys like you back in Chicago!"

In the next instant, the skinny cop pulled out his baton, swinging it up towards Toshi's head. Before it could connect, however, the cop would find his wrist caught in a vice-like grip, that devilish smile still beaming down at him from the mountain of a man standing over him.

"Oh, so you're new to this jurisdiction, eh?" Toshi replied as calmly as ever, his free hand reaching up to loosen his tie a bit. "In that case, allow me to introduce myself properly. Around here, they call me All Might. If that's too hard for you to remember, let me spell it out for ya..."

Before the cop could respond, he would find the wind knocked clean out of his lungs by a powerful fist being driven into his gut. At the same time, Toshi began to call out letters, starting with

"A!"  
"L!" A left hook to the temple.  
"L!" A right to the jaw.

"M!" An uppercut to the chin.  
"I!"  
"G!"  
"H!" Three consecutive blows to the center of his chest.  
"T!" He finished by grabbing hold of the cop's collar, delivering a devastating headbutt to the center of his forehead. The cop's head lolled back in unconsciousness, but Toshi himself suffered little more than having his hat fly from the top of his head. Even so, he lifted the crooked cop up to eye-level, his wide grin never fading. "Nice to meet ya, pal."

He dropped the cop's unconscious form to the ground, after which point he acted as though it didn't exist, bending down to pick up his hat from the floor and dust it off. The other cop scrambled to gather up his partner, making haste out of the establishment as Toshi slicked back his golden hair and replaced his hat on top of his head. He then picked up one of the barstools that the cops were in the process of trying to smash, settling himself down at his favorite spot at the bar. He then leaned his elbows on the bar's surface, resting his chin in his palms as he shot Dave a lopsided grin.

"Miss me, baby?"

Dave couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head incredulously at the display he'd just witnessed as he straightened his shirt and made his way behind the bar.

"Oh always. Though, I'm starting to worry that you've taken to these dramatic entrances a little too enthusiastically. They've already smashed half my tables by the time you got here," he teased lightly, though that didn't stop him from retrieving a glass from behind the bar and plunking a few ice cubes inside. He set the glass down in front of Toshi before retrieving an unmarked bottle from some hidden compartment even the gangster didn't know was there, soon filling the glass halfway with a beautiful amber liquid. Toshi's eyes seemed to light up at the sight and smell of it.

"Holy moley, is that _real_ whiskey?!" he questioned, almost in shock. Even he couldn't get anything better than bathtub gin in this town. He'd damn the prohibition if it didn't make his 'family' so much money - and Dave too, it seemed. He couldn't help but snatch the glass up and drink it down greedily, all the while Dave watched with a gentle, amused smile.

"Mum's recipe. Your family's not the only ones with hidden distilleries, you know."

Toshi let out a delighted snort, the ice cubes clattering in his empty glass as he brought it to rest on the bar surface once more.

"That's why I like you, Dave! Always something new about you when I swing by!" he replied, his voice raised an octave or two louder than earlier. Dave couldn't help but smirk at that. The booze always did hit Toshi almost immediately.

"'Ay, and don't you worry 'bout the damage, babe! I'll take care of it personally! We'll get you the best tables in town!"

Dave let out a chuckle, arching a thin eyebrow.

"Funny. Here I thought the mob's protection racket usually cost you money for protection. Didn't think I'd be getting more out of the deal," he teased again, that smirk never leaving his lips. At that, Toshi suddenly rose to his feet, the bar stool clattering to the ground behind him. He reached across the bar to grab hold of the collar of Dave's shirt, pulling him in close and locking their lips together. Dave was hardly shocked by the reaction, pressing into the kiss, the taste of Irish whiskey clear on the other's breath. Finally, once they parted, Toshi stared up at him with half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, that lopsided grin still plastered across his face.

"I like this payment method better."


End file.
